


we close our eyes

by castelia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, malia is adjusting, malia misses her sister, self harm is briefly mentioned but it's not done by the main characters, set before malia started making friends with the rest of the pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:02:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26792578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castelia/pseuds/castelia
Summary: “I used to come here. When I was a little girl.” A shiver goes through her. The rain is a lot colder than it was only a few months ago. She misses her fur coat. “With my sister.”“You miss her.” It’s not a question.She shrugs. There’s a sticky feeling inside her, kind of like the way her wet clothes stick to her, but far more painful.
Relationships: Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	we close our eyes

There’s a storm. 

It’s not really relevant, except for the fact that it’s caused her clothing to get soaked, but that doesn’t really matter, either. A lot of things don’t matter to her that matter to other people. Just another thing to add to the list of this confusing world.

There’s a faint creaking sound that she thinks would be inaudible to human ears, but Malia isn’t human. She finds the source easily—it’s a swing, going back and forth because of the strong wind. 

It’s weird, being back in this playground. She’s different, now. Taller. She has curves she didn’t used to have. Her hands and feet are bigger. Changes Kylie never got to experience, because of her. Kylie used to love that swing. Kylie used to love coming here.

There’s a lot of kids that love coming here. Her nose can smell them all. Chemosignals, Scott calls them. The joy of children is the focal smell but there’s hints of sadness, too. She can imagine stories to go along with them—a best friend moved away, or maybe they’re moving away themselves. Maybe there’s something going on at home they don’t want anyone to know about. But she can bet it’s not because they killed anyone. 

She can bet it’s not because they killed their family.

She hears him coming long before he arrives.

“Hey!” Stiles is shouting to overcome the echo of the rain. 

“You don’t need to yell,” she shouts, because she does need to. “I can hear you just fine.”

“Oh, right.” He lowers his volume accordingly. “I looked all over for you.”

A warm feeling blossoms within her. She pulls on his shirt to get him close enough to kiss. Their noses bump and his lips are wet—she’s never kissed anyone in the rain before. She’s never kissed anyone but him. She doesn’t want to.

“What was that for?” Stiles asks after they pull away.

“I need a reason?” Malia asks, only half-serious. There’s a lot of unspoken rules she doesn’t really care for.

His eyes soften. “No, you don’t.”

“I like you,” she says, giving the reason anyway, because she feels a little guilty for slipping away after falling asleep together. 

“Well, that’s good.” He grins. She often hears about the others in the pack, if she spends time with them (which is not a lot), that he’s not the same as before. That he’s not happy. She doesn’t know what they mean. Sure, she can smell sadness and guilt on him, but she’s seen sadder people. The boys and girls in Eichen House who used to cut at their own bodies never beamed the way he does at her.

“So is there a reason you’re out in a playground at night, or…?”

“I used to come here. When I was a little girl.” A shiver goes through her. The rain is a lot colder than it was only a few months ago. She misses her fur coat. “With my sister.”

“You miss her.” It’s not a question.

She shrugs. There’s a sticky feeling inside her, kind of like the way her wet clothes stick to her, but far more painful. 

“I get it.” He hesitates. She looks at him, curious, when his heart skips a beat. “My mom, she had this…diner. Her favorite diner.” He chuckles bitterly. “God knows why, because it was a crap hole. The food is average at best and the jukebox doesn’t even work. The walls are painted in this awful bright green that just…burns your retinas.” He pauses. “…I come there once a month. I mean, used to go more often, before…”

“You got busy.” She’s always blunt, but that doesn’t mean she’s judging. Not a lot of people seem to get that, but he’s an exception.

He nods. “…Are you okay?”

“I think so. Just felt…” The storm is easing into a gentle rainfall. “Just missed her.”

He embraces her, and she wraps her arms around him, grateful. A fresh smell invades her senses: the earthy smell whenever it stops raining. There’s still a drizzle, though. She inhales his flannel and focuses on the comforting scent of fresh fabric instead.

“Wanna go to back my house?” he mumbles.

“Yeah,” she says softly, scared that if she speaks any louder it will break the spell. There’s something incredible about this—clinging to each other in a wet playground, sharing stories about dead relatives. She’s never had such a connection with anyone, and she hopes it never dies. He keeps lightly pressuring to spend more time with the others in the pack, but she doesn’t see any reason to. They don’t get her like he does. He’s enough for her.

They pull away eventually, and her eyes widen. “Oh.”

“Guess I was wrong,” he says. “It’s not night.”

The first rays of the sun cast a rosy hue across the sky. The last of the drizzle fades away and everything is quiet. 

She looks back at him. The golden light is reflected in the brown of his eyes. 

Her lips curve upwards almost involuntarily. “Being human…it’s not all bad.”

He wraps an arm around her waist. “Yeah?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

He presses a kiss onto her hair and she leans into the touch. 

They don’t go back to his house right away. Instead, they choose to stand together and watch the earth awaken. Any negative or nostalgic feeling she has in this playground fades away, and all she feels is soothed.


End file.
